


Crash Site Alpha

by MalsWords



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate Atlantis: Legacy
Genre: 'and they walked and walked', A different take on hand jobs, Alien Sex, Author has a Hand Kink, Based very loosely on the books, Camp Nanowrimo, Canon Divergence, Emotional Constipation, Feeding, Gift of Life, M/M, Mild Kink, Mild Posessive Behavior, No Plot/Plotless, Oral, Stargate Atlantis: Legacy series, Xenophilia, You've been warned, handjobs, non-physical sex, please read the books, very explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:19:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4273275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalsWords/pseuds/MalsWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minor Stargate: Legacy spoilers, branches off from some sort of pseudo-canon around the end to middle of the fourth book, and mimics the beginning of the fifth book.</p><p>John Sheppard and Todd the Wraith (Guide) crash on an alien planet and have to finally face the tension they've been carrying for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It comes out of nowhere. At least, that's how Sheppard sees it. He's sure that if he looked deep he'd have been able to see it miles away. Gifts, constant alliances, always escaping and returning again. Always a reluctant shine to his eye when "All bets are off." Is murmured again. But he doesn't see it coming. Not in any real, tangible way.  
  
So when he crash lands with Todd the Wraith on an unknown planet, and watches the ship both of them were _supposed_ to be on light up the sky, John thinks,  _Here we go again_.  
  
Todd-- _Guide_ , Sheppard corrects himself, is picking himself out of the wreckage of the life pod, limping visibly on what had looked like a shattered leg. He's got one arm clamped against his long leather coat and John can all but feel the constant snarl of pain. It wasn't a good thing, having Todd-- _Guide_ \-- already using so much energy on healing, but he had suffered far more injuries than Sheppard during the crash.  
  
_Padding my body from all the sharp bits._ Sheppard's mind supplies, but he ignores it, turning his face back to the sky. Shielding his eyes from the sun with his arm, he watches the fireworks of bits of abandoned Hive burning up as they enter the planets orbit. They were supposed to be on that ship, hadn't been able to beam away. Sheppard wonders if there'll be a rescue team.  
  
"Any chance your buddies are waiting to pick us up over the next hill?" He asks instead, forcing himself not to check where the Wraith was behind him. He had never truly trusted Todd, but if they were stranded-- truly stranded, it would be trial by fire. The Wraith hasn't moved much closer when he speaks, his oddly-timbered voice rumbling with a sour note.  
  
"Unfortunately not. With how much damage..."  
  
"They won't be able to re-enter Queen Death's space any time soon." Sheppard finishes after the wraith's silence stretches, finally turning away from the sky. The planet is nice enough,  he figures, all coniferous trees and short brush. Lucky-- without the impact of all the trees they hit on their way in, they might not have survived impact with the planet.  
  
"You've looked better." He continues, once To- _Guide_ 's silence stretches long enough he knows he's not going to get a reply. He winces slightly, "Though you've also looked worse, so that's a good sign, right?"  
  
Guide tilts his head, his eyes narrowing briefly in some expression Sheppard reads as might-be-smile-might-be-death-threat. "I suppose. I won't have to kill you right away, if that's what you're worried about."  
  
Oh good, getting straight to the point. "No- better to get more use out of me first, huh? I feel that. On that note, if we're being _useful,_ mind salvaging through the wreck and seeing if we can figure out if there's aggressive life signs or I don't know, a Stargate?"  
  
Guide bares teeth at him, and John is proud he doesn't flinch, doesn't reach for his pistol. Something akin to a hiss leaves the Wraith as he turns his back to Sheppard, staring down at the scorched patch of dirt around the roughly-textured life pod wreckage.  
  
"You assume I haven't already been doing this." He rumbles, running his off hand over his face. He sounds tired, strained, and it makes something bubble in John that he's not entirely comfortable with. He still has nightmares of their time in Kolya's prison, of Todd's weak voice shaking in the other cell.  
  
"No luck then?"  
  
"I got a few scans of the planet before the systems overloaded. There were no life signs of any value. There was an energy blip to the west that may be a Gate, but the systems were too far gone to pick out specifics." As they were plummeting they had been sacrificing systems left and right to try and avoid bursting into flames or skipping off the planets' atmosphere like a polished stone. Well, Guide had. John had just been stressing out and swearing helpfully from the niche in the bottom of the tiny pod.  
  
"West huh? Well there's no use sitting around the life pod if we don't have to, both our guys are perfectly capable of scanning the planet for us individually." He's not sure why he feels the need to _talk_ , he knows damn well Guide would rather he didn't. Maybe that was reason enough.  
  
Guide had ducked to crawl back into the life pod, sounds of him rifling around echoing out into the small charred clearing. Sheppard waited patiently outside, the hot sun slowly prickling the back of his neck. He did a pat down of his supplies- two energy bars and three clips for his P90 he wasn't carrying anymore, lost amidst the screaming ship. He had a clip for his pistol in his inner coat pocket, and a knife on his other side, so that was good. Two energy bars weren't going to get him very far, though.  
  
With a sigh he leaves Guide to his salvaging, turning to do a quick perimeter of the crash site. He's not surprised when nothing turns up.  
  
Guide doesn't speak to him when he emerges from the life pod, simply stands with what looks like an over sized  flesh-colored safety cone folded in one hand, a water canteen in the other. At least Sheppard assumes it's a water canteen; the surface of it catches the light like a beetle's carapace. Gross.  
  
"I suppose I can't hope you found some MRE's in there?" Sheppard tries once he's nearly jumped out of his skin at the Wraith magically reappearing in the center of the clearing. Guide angles his face slightly in reply, and if he had eyebrows he would have raised them.  
  
"Food?" He clarifies.  
  
The Wraith snorts and shakes his mane, the hair already matting up from the almost-sleek waves he had tamed it into aboard his Hive. "There would be no point of human food on a Wraith life pod." As if that wasn't painfully obvious.  
  
"No, I suppose you'd have to either find people once you crash or else starve." He dead pans right back. He shouldn't be picking fights, he knows, but can't help himself. They had been damn near civil during all this drama with the newest retrovirus, transferring back and fourth between Atlantis and Guide's hive. Under this newest stress, however,  John's patience slipped. He didn't want anything to come to blows, but not-so-sensitive snide remarks were helping him relieve tension. Very unprofessional, but he was with _Todd._  
  
He breathed a heavy sigh over his mental voice correcting the name again.  
  
He's already given up on conversation and turned to start heading west when Guide replies low under his breath, "Luckily, I've already found food, now haven't I." It's not a question, and Sheppard grits his teeth and doesn't answer.  
  
They pick their way carefully through the sweet-smelling trees, Sheppard leading without really knowing where he was going. He figured neither of them did, so best put in his big boy pants and move like he means it. The sun had already been starting to drop from high noon when they had crashed, and now the light was taking on a liquid gold hue that soaked the tops of the trees as it sunk in the sky.  
  
The trees were thinning slowly, the brush jumping up eagerly to fill the space. The sun was all but off them by the time they stepped out into an open clearing, adequately flat for making camp.  
  
Without words Sheppard scuffed up a section of ground near the middle, rolling a few rocks into place for a fire pit. Behind him he could hear Guide shuffling around, and he turned to glance back at him for the first time in almost and hour. He had the flesh-cone unfurled, and Sheppard was pleased to see it actually was a tent (and didn't look like it was actually made of flesh).  
  
John has to clear his throat before speaking. "Nice." He offers. Guide's shoulders are still haunched away from him, uncharacteristically lacking his usual courtly flare. John licks his lips and shifts his weight as Guide tilts his head up to regard him over his shoulder, and John understands completely.  
  
He hadn't really noticed when they'd been crawling around outside the wreck, perhaps it wasn't nearly so bad, then, but in the shadows of the dying light Guide was drawn and thin, deep lines sinking under his cheeks. Sheppard swallowed thickly.  
  
"Fuck." He breathes, though it's blasé and aimed at the situation in general. Guide straightens stiffly and turns to face him, his off hand twitching into a claw and his feeding hand clamped viciously closed. He works his off hand closed as well, though it looks like it takes a lot more effort.  
  
"Guide." John breathes, and the Wraith looks taken aback by the use of his true name, his golden cat's eyes widening briefly before being schooled back to practiced indifference.  
  
"...John."  
  
Sheppard licks his lips and swallows again, schooling his breathing. "What kind of situation are we talking about, here?" He manages, feeling his face flush and his heartbeat quicken. Guide was watching him intently, his eyes once again more and more those of a predator.  
  
"I will not harm you." He rasps, flexing his feeding hand again. He had definitely not been this bad only a little over four hours ago.  
  
"What's up? You seem to have declined pretty fucking fast." Sheppard can't fully keep his voice even, but he pushes past it.  
  
"I have been healing severe internal injuries, as well as mending a shattered leg and pelvis. It has taken... Much out of me."  
  
"And by 'much' you mean damn near everything you have."  
  
"I have starved, Sheppard. You have watched me starve. I am no newborn, ready to keel over at the first burning in my palm." Sheppard doesn't buy it, his voice too strained.  
  
Against his better instinct but following what he hopes is his gut and not some mind game Guide is playing with him, he steps towards him. His movements are careful and slow, stuck between approaching a wounded predator and approaching a grieving friend. Guide watches him, curls his lip up gently in a mild false snarl.  
  
"What can I do to help...?" He breathes, eyes flickering over Guide's face. This also seems to take him off guard, and the Wraith bares teeth at him in a full snarl. He schools it back quickly, averting his gaze and breathing deeply.  
  
"I would feed on you, if you would let me. The Fair One was convinced it would be successful, this time. The retrovirus." He shifts and slips his off hand into the pocket of his long coat, pulling out a small physician's dart and displaying it on his palm.  
  
"And if it doesn't work?" Sheppard's gaze flickers from the dart to Guide's drawn face and back, swallowing again. He could hardly think over the pounding of the blood in his veins.  
  
"Then I will give back everything I take, and we will both die here under the shade of the trees."  
  
"That doesn't sound as appealing as I think you intended it to." His voice is lowering to just above a whisper against his will and he moves closer still, stopping just at the edge of arm's reach.  
  
"You can kill me and make your way West, hope to find a gate. Dial Atlantis, go home."  
  
"Or you could feed on me and continue west, find a gate and dial your Hive."  
  
Guide blanches visibly, green skin pale. His voice falters into a hoarse whisper. "I can't do that."  
  
"No?"  
  
Guide averts his eyes again, something crossing his face that Sheppard can't translate. He watches the Wraith struggle with a thought, eyes flicking back to John and away. After several breaths he sucks in deeply and lets it out through his teeth.  
  
"I would die before taking your life. I have named you Brother, and there is honor in such things."  
  
"Enough that if I say no you would just lie down and die? I don't believe that, not one bit."  
  
The Wraith looks almost hurt. "Over living with the knowledge that I killed a Brother for my own greed? That I drank deeply of John Sheppard, He Who Walked With Me From Death's Embrace? Over knowing I am no less a monster than you say I am, not worthy of the mercy you have shown me...?" His voice breaks and for an instant John's afraid he might cry. John definitely feels like he wants to, emotions choking him and making breathing hard.  
  
"I'm not going to put you down like some lame beast."  
  
"You will if you need to. You are stronger than I in that regard."  
  
"I don't know where you get this faith in me."  
  
"You have proven yourself, time and time again. Even now you approach me, though you see I am starving and in great pain."  
  
John thinks that logically, he should kick himself. He should turn and walk away right now, or level his pistol into the Wraith's eye socket. Instead he places a trembling hand on Guide's sleeve. "I trust you."  
  
"You shouldn't."  
  
"Well obviously. But I do. Even when I know I shouldn't, even when I know I should just put a bullet through your face I know I'm not going to. I can't. I wouldn't be able to put down Ronon, or Teyla, or Rodney. Same with you."  
  
Guide's pupils have dilated, and John thinks it's the dying light until his stare brings a dark green flush to his face. His heartbeat tries to leap from his chest.  
  
"You would put me on the same level as your Team?" His voice is wrecked, now; broken between starvation and this emotional tension John is pretty sure he could cut with a knife. It's intoxicating, seeing this tall, courtly monstrosity watching him like he's the first drops of rain in the desert. An involuntary shiver rolls up his spine.  
  
"I guess so, yeah." He swallows, licks his lips. Lets the realization flood through him. "Yes."  
  
Guide watches his expressions carefully, eyes lingering on the hand on his sleeve. He looks about to reply, but fails.  
  
"I'll take that needle, now." Sheppard manages, tempted to turn away, to break whatever spell this was. Tempted to run away. Emotional epiphanies were never his strong point.  
  
Guide's expression mirrors his thoughts, and with a start Sheppard realizes that their breathing has synchronized almost perfectly. That's what makes him pull away, take a step back. Guide sucks in air like a drowning man as the contact breaks, his pupils tightening to slits and fanning back out immediately.  
  
Sheppard licks his lips and steps back again, still breathing hard. It's not as though he could hide this- deny this. Guide was just as shaken as him; no, more so. He wonders briefly if the Wraith is thinking the same thing. Hard to deny this whatever-this-is when both of them are shivering from it.  
  
"What do I do?" Sheppard asks, clearing his throat. Guide closes his fingers around the dart and twirls it into a usable position, holding out his off hand for Sheppard's arm. John gives it to him, realizes how clammy his skin has become, soaked with adrenaline.  
  
The needle sinks into his flesh with a sharp bite and he flinches hard, swearing under his breath. When Guide pushes the plunger in the pain is worse, searing through his veins. He groans and curls forward over the arm, gasping softly as the Wraith plucks the needle from his vein. Guide doesn't step back, instead remaining within the range of Sheppard's body heat, off hand still holding his arm. They had done this before, this deadly dance of feed and return. Last time he hadn't stood so easily in Guide's arms, trusted him with his life. Last time, there had been no choice.  
  
This time there was no real choice either.  
  
Shaking despite all attempts to stand firm, Sheppard brings his hand up to undo his jacket, gently tugging his arm from Guide's grip. Guide is watching him still, rapt with attention. His eyes rake over John undoing his jacket like a man possessed, and John barely has the decency to suppress a frighteningly needy shudder when Guide's feeding hand slides up under his shirt.  
  
"Awfully handsy." He laughs nervously, sucking in air as the Wraith's claws set, biting into soft skin. Guide's reply is a low purr, and the sound seems to rumble through John's sternum, shaking him at his very core. He huffs and drops his eyes to somewhere around Guide's collarbone, hoping the way his body is responding to the touch goes blissfully unnoticed. When he flicks his eyes back up to the other man's it's very obvious it has not gone unnoticed at all. John feels himself flush almost as dark as the Wraith.  
  
"Well?" He breathes, shifting to expose more of his chest to Guide's. The Wraith hesitates, searching for words that might be adequate.  
  
"Thank you." He manages, gripping John's shoulder with his off hand to keep him upright. The hunger washes through him like a wave and he gives in, his muscles sagging from the release of effort. He drinks and it's pure bliss, drawing John's life into him with a purity he can't express. John shudders and cries out, making wet sounds of agony as he shakes in Guide's grip, but his visage does not wither.  
  
Guide feels himself come apart as John Sheppard suffers under his grip, the waves of euphoria burning up his arm tasting so much of _John._ A hungry moan escapes him, made more shrill with the knowledge that John had raised weak eyes to meet his. It's all Guide can take and he releases him, pulls his claws back and moans again, softer this time but still hoarse and full of a need that burns his face with humiliation.  
  
He almost retracts his hand from John's shirt but thinks better of it last moment, re-clamping his eager hand-mouth against the human's flesh. John looks like he's about to either pass out or protest but is caught short by the slow tendrils of the Gift that creep into him.  
  
Guide locks eyes with him and holds his gaze, their heartbeats and breathing perfectly in sync. He watches John shiver as the euphoria soaks into him, smells his arousal burn as Guide feeds it, pumps the human's own purity back into him. Guide's breath catches as John lets out a ragged moan and leans into him, nails digging at Guide's leathers.  
  
"Oh, God." John manages to moan into him, gasping wetly as his body tenses. Guide can feel all of him, intimate, roiling through John's very being. When John's orgasm rips through him Guide shamelessly rides it out with him, lost in the sense of melded minds, the closest thing he could get to touching John's mind as he would a Wraith's.  
  
He remains standing there, unmoving with his hand-mouth sealed to John's flesh and the human tucked under his chin, all but pressed against him.  
  
John clears his throat awkwardly and Guide disengages his claws, trailing the pads of his fingers down John's front with more tenderness than is strictly necessary. He's shaking, he knows it and does his best to draw himself up like he hadn't just lost himself in the Gift with a human.  
  
"Is that.. Normal?" John breathes against him, not trusting himself to step back and have to look Guide in the eye. Guide mimics him and clears his own throat.  
  
"Amongst those who have repeatedly received the Gift, yes. It is.. Unusual that we connected so... Completely, but given our previous conversation, perhaps it should not be such a surprise it effected us so."  
  
"Us." John parrots, then stiffens with the realization. "Oh."  
  
"Mm."  
  
"So uh-- I guess I can add really weird, awkward alien sex to my Pegasus Galaxy resume, then." John's laugh sounds strained, but Guide snorts back anyways. John shifts uncomfortably against him and Guide remembers where he is, releasing Sheppard and moving back immediately. John frowns as though he's sad to lose the contact, but straightens himself up the best he can.  
  
Guide tries to keep the words behind his teeth but can't, a smile tilting his voice, "Awkward?"  
  
John actually grins at that, shifting his weight and tugging his pants in a way he hopes is subtler than it is. "Unexpected, for one. Could warn a guy. Would've worn my good boxers."  
  
Guide bares teeth in a return smile, a short, bubbling laugh escaping him. "I assure you, I am equally indisposed."  
  
John lets his eyes trail over the Wraith, taking in his radiant, sleek skin and glossy white hair. Even his sensory pits, arching out from each nostril look more taut and healthy. Sheppard pats his chest - yep, still alive. Alive and standing in front of a very healthy, freshly fed Wraith. That's a new one. If he had to put it into words, he'd describe it as being lit on fire from the inside and then fucked by God.  
  
"Worshippers are gonna _love_ this."  
  
Guide's eyes narrow in what John has learned is mostly-good-humor. "I'll remember that."  
  
With a sigh that's more of a heave, John turns away, squinting with alarm in the low light. The sun was almost all the way set, and they had nothing near camp set up. With a small curse he moves set about gathering firewood. Guide interrupts him with a small brush against his shoulder.  
  
"Allow me. I feel it much more pertinent that you find water for yourself. I can hear a stream close by, that way, perhaps?" He's close enough that John can feel the shifting of leather as he breathes. John clears his throat and nods, envious of the Wraith's night-vision. He moves off towards the direction Guide indicated, only having to move a handful of feet through the brush before the small dribbling of water becomes obvious to his ears, too.  
  
John takes the time to fill the beetle-canteen and clean himself up quickly, his face burning. He cracks open a roll of water purifying tablets, dropping one into the canteen and swishing it around as he walks along the loose stones of the stream bed towards the way he came.  
  
He feels a lot better now that he's not pressing into a stark reminder of having weird space-vampire sex with his mostly-enemy on an alien planet as the sun set romantically in the background. John laughs in spite of himself, the sound no more than a self depreciating gush of air. He's got himself mostly put together by the time he breaks back into the clearing, hissing as he trips over something his eyes can't pick out in the deepening night.  
  
Guide looks equally relieved to have had time to wring out his nerves, a neat bundle of firewood stacked next to the pit. He's just getting it lit when John reaches him, kneeling in the other side and pulling out his first energy bar. He plays with it idly in his hands for a moment, gaging his hunger. The point where he wanted food had passed a while ago, and his appetite was shot from the feeding, but he cracked the bar open anyways. If he was going to be feeding both of them, he should probably not risk it. The fire flares to life between them and Sheppard watches it, biting back comments about attracting predators and unwanted attention.  
  
Somehow having an apex predator across the fire from him made him feel considerably safe. That was one for the psychologist.  
  
"Do you have many of those?" Guide asks after a prolonged silence, presumably watching Sheppard eat. John shakes his head and swallows his mouthful before speaking.  
  
"One more after this. I can probably make it to breakfast ok, but after that I'll need to start looking for food." He smiles across the fire, though he knows it slides wrong. "Somehow I expected extra ammunition was going to be more important than padding all my pockets with food."  
  
"I'd have to disagree, even in the relative safety of my Hive. Feeding humans is not something we're particularly equipped for."  
  
"Yeah, and I'm going to strut around a Wraith hive unarmed."  
  
Guide pulls a face, "I wouldn't respect you if you weren't at least a little bit paranoid. Perhaps next time a few more of your food bricks, though."  
  
"I actually started with eight, I've just been oh I don't know, _eating them_."  
  
"Mm."  
  
They sit in silence for a while, small sparks from the fire casting dancing lights on skin. Guide has a healthy shine to his face from the firelight; his complexion looks almost human in the orange glow. John maps the lines of the older man's features with his eyes, tracing the sharp lines of his tattoo, the curves of his cheekbones that lead down to his small goatee. The Wraith's gaze is on the fire, orange on orange making his eyes glow with the fury of molten gold.  
  
"I should get some sleep." John relents finally, standing stiffly and stretching out some of the kinks that had been accumulating all day. Guide's gaze snaps onto him as he stretches, and John has to look away, shivering under the hunter's stare.  
  
"The tent will keep you covered from the elements, and I will stay and watch. I will wake you in several hours so I may also sleep, though I will not require nearly as long." His rumble is soft and soothing, and John thinks that's another one for the psychiatrist.  
  
"Rub it in why don't you." He huffs as he tucks his way into the tent, pleased to find something akin to a thermo-sheet inside. It's still too warm to truly need it, but you never know how fast the temperature drops overnight on alien planets. John sighs as he settles down, listening to the crackle of the fire and staring at the ceiling until he drifts off to sleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

With John Sheppard asleep, Guide is finally able to fully relax the tension from his shoulders. He'd been struggling with the well of emotions and responses all evening, and it was good to have the time to think about it, to put all the pieces of his mind back in place.

The retrovirus worked. That alone was cause for celebration! He had fed on John, and John had not only lived, but with only a quarter of the energy returned back to him he had been almost completely healthy.

More control groups were needed to test the psychological effects. He had fantasized about feeding on John with the retrovirus- drawing life from him intimately, deeply. Never had he thought he'd get the opportunity to try it.

Never had he thought it would work.

And John... John had been phenomenal. It was a terrifying thought, how natural leeching and giving was with him. The ebb and flow; the connection of Life. He had never seen nor felt a connection grow that quickly, that intensely.

_Brother._

The thought echoes through him and he shivers, prodding the dying embers to send a plume of sparks swirling. There was a good chance the... _Sexual_ outcome was intensified by the emphasis on symbiosis they had keyed into the retrovirus. That would be alarming, but not completely improbable. And not completely undesirable, if Guide was honest with himself. Sheppard was right- if the sexual overlay was a result of he retrovirus itself, worshippers would be lining up and begging to be fed on, begging for the gift. Never again would his people starve.

With a sigh Guide shifts back in his seat, the glowing embers burning bright spots in his sensitive vision. He had been subtly and damn near subconsciously courting John Sheppard since their time in Kolya's prison together. He had double-crossed him in the past for his own gain, yes, but he had also brought many treaties and alliances and gifts he knew were only thinly used as leverage points.

Truly, he had simply yearned for Sheppard's favour. The only problem was he was too proud a fool to admit his interest, even to himself. To court a human like one would court an equal... The thought was absurd, but not unwelcome. As far as he was aware he had been too subtle for Sheppard to grow suspicious of his reasoning. The human was also far more likely to be suspicious of Guide luring him into traps and double-crosses, much less so that Guide was after his favour.

The thought pulls an amused hiss from the Wraith. To think one as old and impressive as himself would stoop to courting favour from a human Blade....

The questions now was whether it would be more beneficial to blame his suddenly less controlled interest on the retrovirus. It would be an easy lie to weave, how the virus made the human more sweet in his eternal life. If Atlantis' clevermen discovered it wasn't so, it would be an awkward lie to be caught in, but one he believes he could feign ignorance for.

The true problem was that if he blames the virus, John Sheppard would take his roving eyes of that as a predator, impersonal and greedy. If he courts him in honest then he would more likely shy away, surely deeply disgusted by something so depraved.

But Guide was a gentleman, a queen's consort. Perhaps he could live with that. 


	3. Chapter 3

When John wakes his mouth is thick and full of a sweetness he's not happy with. With a ragged yawn he moves to get up, weak early morning sunlight already shining through the tent walls. 

Everything hurts.

And that, John thinks, is the beginning of a really bad day. Limping out of the tent, he takes stock of the campsite; fire burnt out in the centre, Wraith leaning against a tree on the far left side of the camp. Guide meets his eyes in greeting and John suppresses another yawn.

"Morning sunshine." John manages, trying to work out the knot in his thigh as he limps off in the direction of the stream. He thinks Guide mumbles something about shouting if he breaks anything, but he can't make out the exact phrase. Carefully picking his way through the brush, John realizes the morning light allows him a much easier path than he had chosen last night. 

Washing up quickly, he refills the canteen, cringing at the freezing water on his face. He knows he'll miss it later if he doesn't take the opportunity to rinse now. Reluctantly, the last energy bar doesn't take him nearly as long to eat as he wants it to, and his stomach growls in protest. He crumples the wrapper up and stuffs it in his jacket pocket.

The tent is taken down when he gets back to camp, the fire kicked over and adequately covered. The Wraith is still leaning against the same tree he had been when Sheppard left, eyes closed and palms open on his knees. 

"You didn't wake me." John says by way of greeting. Straight to the point. Guide doesn't look up.

"I've been conserving energy all night. I'll be fine if you would like to move out now." His deep voice is unusually soft, breathing slow and deep. John wonders for the umpteenth time if Wraith meditate, or if it's just a standby mode of sorts.

"I take that as a sign nothing went bump in the night."

The wraith does look up this time, his eyes flicking over Sheppard's face as though subtly trying to decipher his wording. After a small pause, "No. Small animals, things that smelled me and took off immediately. Nothing of note."

That made sense. Sheppard had only seen a few small critters here and there - birds in the trees, rustling in the underbrush, that sort of thing. As long as he wasn't going to be mauled by an alien a tiger any time soon, he was happy.

"Anything that looked particularly edible?" He tries, though he hopes he won't have to go pistol hunting. _If Ronon or Teyla were here they'd have already snared enough food for a week_ , he thinks bitterly. _Or Rodney, with a whole backpack of MREs_.

"You can consume the flesh of most living things, can you not? That seems like a useless question."

John cringes at his choice of words. "Well yeah, but things like deer and rabbit and big mammals that eat grass and foliage are generally preferred. Or fat ground birds, with... strong wing beats." He twists his hands to loosely frame the size of  pheasant. 

"You need food soon, then."

John pales at the intensity of the stare. That was one thing he never really got over with the Wraith; they always stare you down like they're trying to see through you. Or into your mind, which makes more sense.

"By tonight I'll need something more substantial, I'll just be grouchy and slightly less competent than normal."

Guide cracks a small smile, but even without his sharp features John knows it would look pained. "It seems the symptoms of hunger are universal, then."

John has to look away as his gut churns uncomfortably, a violent reminder of his people's history of starving the Wraith in their care. He stays silent for a moment, but when it gets too awkward for him he shifts his weight and mumbles a soft apology. Guide tilts his head in acknowledgment, but doesn't press the issue. God knows if anyone was touchy about hunger, Guide had the soap box.

"We should start moving, we're burning daylight."

Guide sucks in a breath like he's waking up, and Sheppard watches his pupils dilate and shrink to a much more focused level. The Wraith flexes his hands before rising in a fluid motion, limbs unfurling with a predator's grace. Without question Guide gathers the tent and shrugs it over his shoulder with a strap Sheppard hadn't noticed the previous night. John doesn't question Guide carrying all their gear, as little as it was. He was pretty sure both of them were painfully aware of who's life was feeding who's in the relationship. John was both mortified and pleased that he was going to get at least a little bit of babying out of it. Serves the Wraith right, it would probably do his kind good to be the servant for a while. 

John's already across the campsite when the last thought flits across his mind, and his own blatant racism makes his blood run cold. He'd only been in the Pegasus galaxy for a little under six years and already he was struggling with his prejudices. He clears his throat behind his hand and hopes once again that Teyla is right, and Wraith truly can't look into his mind the way they can with each other.

The pair picks their way west, keeping under the shade of the trees as the sun climbs slowly higher. Several hours into their trek Guide makes a small motion, moments before John steps damn near _on_ a small bird. The pheasant-shaped explosion of feathers peels away with a thunderclap of beating wings and John thinks for a moment he might die of shock.

"That." he states once he's done riding the shock of adrenaline, his pistol in his grip, "That would make good lunch, I'd bet."

Guide makes a small sound John can't identify behind him. "I'll be sure to alert you sooner, next time. Perhaps I should carry your weapon?"

He can't help but pale at that. “Absolutely out of the question.”

“Surely if I notice such creatures long before you...”

“I shouldn't even be considering wasting ammunition on shooting god damned _birds_ , let alone giving you my gun to do it with."

Another small sound, this time with more hiss. John really wishes he could decipher Guide's sounds better; he used a lot more wordless vocalizations than he ever did meaningful dialogue. _Probably a Wraith thing_. His mind chirps in a bright, mocking-the-obvious tone, and he snorts in spite of himself.

"Just-- I don't know, give me a heads up if you see anything." John says, in a voice that will hopefully discourage further conversation. To his chagrin, it doesn't work.

"If you would lend me your weapon, I could easily slip off and retrieve something for you." Guide tries again, impatience showing in his tone. Sheppard can't help but sigh, wiping sweat off the back of his neck with the sleeve of his coat.

"I understand you've finally found the fountain of Eternal Feeding, but I swear to God I'm not going to keel over if I miss a meal. I really want to get to the Stargate as soon as possible, if you don't mind. Really- I understand you could probably thrive here forever, if all you have to do is keep your useless human alive for a constant food source, but I'm not really into the whole camping forever thing."

The hairs on the back of John's neck stand up, his skin suddenly far too hot.

"You confuse having a constant food source available with enjoying living like a _savage_." Guide spits, suddenly far too close to John's back for comfort. The forest is beginning to swelter under the sun, and John can feel the dry heat in the air cling to him. It's not helping his mood.

"Come on, the savage thing seems to come so easily--"

His words are broken off by the ground rushing up to meet him, the heavy weight of the Wraith taking the air out of him. Sheppard gasps into the leaves and tries to kick himself around, barely managing to grind his elbow into some relatively soft part of the Wraith. Guide responds with a fierce, wet snarl; the sound gushing hot air over the back of John's neck. He can feel claws digging in there, but after a few more struggles he relents and lies still, panting angrily.

"Get the fuck off me." He snaps, managing to wriggle an arm under his chest and push himself up from the ground. He can distinctly feel what he believes to be Guide's knee in his back. "This is fucking stupid, it's too hot for this shit."

The Wraith's growl lowers into a deadly, constant snarling and John thinks he may have actually fucked this one up.

"Ok, dumb move. I get you're not a fucking savage, Jesus Christ. You could have taken it as a compliment, 'why yes survival with nothing but the shirt on my back comes so easily to me, thank you for noticing.' Or something."

"How _human_  of you, to take your insult and try to justify it, instead of committing to your words." Guide's breath is literally in his ear, and there's nothing but fear in the adrenaline surging through him. 

"I'm sorry."

"I _hope_ you are." 

There's a moment where the pressure on his back lifts slightly and John takes it, slamming his heel into Guide's side and using the momentum to flip himself over. He gets one hand around the Wraith's biceps before he's slammed down again, this time with the Wraith's feeding hand against his chest. It's not an improvement.

What _is_  an improvement is the change of the heat on his skin when his adrenaline spikes again, twisting through his gut with nothing like fear.

Guide looks more frustrated than livid, and John blinks up at him uselessly. There's a wrongness to him, and it takes him a moment to figure it out. Tugging his arm from Guide's off hand he lifts his fingers to wipe them across the Wraith's cheek. His blood cools from the look of confusion it brings.

"You feel wrong."

Guide snorts, shifting his weight on top of the smaller human. "It's very hot."

"Oh." John drags his fingers further down Guide's neck, and his heartbeat jumps  again when the telltale green flush rises under his fingers. Well then that's enough of that.

The Wraith seems to have a similar idea, eyes flashing as he peels himself from Sheppard and moves to stand politely off the the side. John brushes himself off and stands as well, tugging off the jacket of his uniform and folding it over his arm. He gives Guide a side-eye, watching him sigh and do the same, revealing an elbow-length black silk shirt over leather pants. His hips are deceptively narrow, John thinks fleetingly before sighing and turning to continue walking.

"Do you want the rest of my water?" If the Wraith was drying up in the sun they were going to have a lot of fun on this planet.

"Yes. Please."

Sheppard hands it back, watching Guide pour dribbles of water onto his hand-mouth before running it over his face and sensory pits. A bit of his shine returns, but he still looks oddly matte. Sheppard frowns. "You probably should have dunked in the stream before heading out today."

"Mm."

Much to both of their displeasures the trees start thinning out, the brush spreading over large gaps. It also brings the sun down on them, Guide looking more and more uncomfortable with each passing minute. The ground slopes up and they're forced to scale rocky outcroppings melded into the dirt, guide leading so he can help pull John up.

They trek through the short brush for several hours before they get the chance to duck off the rocky path back into the coolness of trees. Once back in the shade Guide crouches down to recover, all but panting openly, his skin matte and looking painfully dry where Sheppard's is slick with sweat.

"You gonna burn?" John asks, feeling the heat radiating from the back of his own neck. Guide flicks his eyes back up, and John is pleased to see they're smiling.

"Regeneration, remember?"

John scowls back playfully, "Well aren't you lucky. Some of us get to peel the old fashioned way."

"I can smell water." Guide states when he gradually recovers the energy to straighten, leaning up against the strange, roughly barked tree they were sheltering beneath.

"Like a stream? Thank God, I'm so thirsty."

Guide shakes his head and shoulders past the human, peeking out over a small cliff face. "There." He states triumphantly, pointing off into the green foliage. Sheppard doesn't have to look hard to see the slick shine of water peeking through the trees, easily a big enough body of water to be considered a lake even if it didn't stretch very far out of sight.

With a whoop of success John starts crawling through the bushes leading down the hill to the lake. Guide joins him, using his broad stance to hold branches aside while they scrape through.

Once they break through the brambles onto the lake shore, John reaches the water's edge first. He kneels on the pebbled shoreline, dunking the canteen in and watching tiny fish dart through his shade. Even dying in the heat John knew better than to play in alien waters;  there was no limit to the amount of strange swimmer's itch he could get here.

Guide had been hanging back, small crunches on the pebbles the only sign of him being there. It had become their natural way of things, John leading a foot or two ahead; lost in his own thoughts and silence with the Wraith trailing behind (presumably staring holes in his back).

He's digging out a tablet for the canteen when Guide runs past him, a blur of sleek green skin and a small bar of black silk. John watches with baffled surprise as the Wraith leaps up onto a rocky ledge and dives off, disappearing into the sheet of water. 

He blinks a few times and shakes the tablet in the water canteen, taking a sip when he figures it's dissolved enough.

A small glance confirms Guide's clothing neatly folded and placed under the shade of a bush, the tent tucked beside it.

John can't keep all of the laugh down, shaking his head with wonder and taking another drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and review! Anything from 'woah haha cool' to intimate detailing of anything and everything you're feeling and have felt throughout will fuel my burning passion!


	4. Chapter 4

The Wraith stays under for what John finds an uncomfortably long time. Guide breaks the surface with a wet gasp, running hands over his face to clear it of straggling hair.  


John's eyes must be as wide as they seem, because Guide stops and stares him down.

"Better?" John asks, clearing his throat when his voice breaks.

"Much. Will you be joining me?" Golden eyes flick to the canteen in his hand.

John pulls a face, "Soaking myself in alien Soup of Life sounds like a bad plan any way you spin it."

"Sheppard, I can heal you if become  ill."

"Can you heal me if something  _eats me_? You have no idea what could be in there."

"Is it customary where you're from for small bodies of water to contain large predators?"

John shrugs, leaning back to tug at the laces of his boots. If nothing else, it'd be amazing to get his feet wet. "Crocodiles in swamplands I guess. Big carnivorous lizards, can crush a mans skull like nothing. Saw a video of one tearing the front fender off a pickup."

The Wraith gives him that narrow-eyed head tilt again, and John sighs. "A vehicle. Like a train car, kind of. Tore a huge piece off it."

Guide nods, shifting in the water so it laps halfway up his chest. His hands are trailing along the surface, palm lifted so his feeding slit isn't touching. It's the most surreal thing John thinks he's ever seen, a Wraith older than dirt playing in a lake like a teenager on a hot day.

It had to be pushing mid-nineties in the shade.

"Promise you won't drown me?"

Guide does the Wraith equivalent of a raised eyebrow, showing teeth. He figures this whole are-you-going-to-kill-me thing is getting older every time he pulls it, but sometimes a guy needs verbal confirmation his mostly-enemy isn't out for blood, despite all logical conclusions pointing to Sheppard being more useful breathing. It didn't look like he was going to get it this time.

The Wraith doesn't justify his bitching with a response, so John tugs his boots off in silence. He flicks his gaze back up when he hears the water move, just in time to watch Guide dive under again, bony ridges of his spine gliding above the water like the dorsal fin of some weird prehistoric fish. It's a hopelessly cool sight, he has to admit. He also gets a better view of Guide's underwear, which look practically the same as human boxer-briefs, though the legs go most of the way to Guide's knees. Probably less of a call for Wraith undergarments to fit under shorts without showing, John figures.

The thought of getting into water - something humans are naturally awful at - while stranded on an alien planet with his mostly-enemy is not the most welcoming thought.

Tucking his socks into his boots once he peels them off, he reluctantly follows with the rest of his clothes. John doesn't bother with neatly folding everything; just lays his pants down next to his boots and tosses his crumpled shit on top.

Bare to the heat in nothing but his boxers, Sheppard shivers as his skin prickles defensively, running a hand over his arm. He scans the water for Guide and spots him several yards out, a fan of white hair in a sea of dark water. The reflection of the too-yellow sun makes the water blinding, and Sheppard covers his eyes with his hand as he creeps into the lake. He doesn't know why he expects something other than moderately-cold water.

The sand is littered with small pebbles trying to push their way up through his toes, worn smooth by the daily motion of the tides. If he hadn't known better, this could be a perfect snapshot of a flawless vacation. Maybe he could be irresponsible and think of it that way for a little while. All of him aches and he's exhausted, and now he gets the treat of a perfect vacation on a too-hot planet.

The water only goes up to his ankles before viciously dropping off, explaining the Wraith's smooth dive. John takes a moment to gather his will before stepping off the soft sand ledge.

The chill washes from his feet to his scalp, the burning of his skin instantly soothed. He can feel the cold in the core of his being, chasing away the last tendrils of heat.

Sheppard's weight carries him to the bottom of the lake, his toes curling in the sand before pushing him up to the surface. He breaks with a heavy sigh, smearing water out of his eyes with one hand and treading water with the other.   Guide had come to investigate, gliding over to him effortlessly. It feels like he crosses the distance between them unnervingly quickly, and John adds that to his list of knowledge on the Wraith: impossibly good swimmers.

He voices the discovery out loud, "Didn't know Wraith were born in the water."

Guide wipes dripping water out of his facial hair and smirks. "I've told you there are many things about my kind you do not know. Perhaps this is another among many." He moves with his words, gently kicking off and gliding in a semi-circle around John, a small angle of his shoulders sharpening his trajectory. John can't figure out how he moves so _fast_.

"You're supposed to be part bug, not part fish." Sheppard says, not bothering to try and compete.

"It is not my fault humans have never quite figured out how grace works." Guide replies lightly, completing his circle around Sheppard's position. He seems amused by how slow John is, even though he hasn't seen him actually swim anywhere.

"Now that's just rude."

Sheppard does his best to keep the conversation light, sticking to playful barbs and lighthearted jests. Guide responds favorably, but keeps swimming laps around him; always remaining at a respectful distance. They swim out almost to the center of the lake and John has to admit the exercise feels amazing on his aching muscles. He's got his face in the water and is watching Guide arc bellow him when he sees the first fish that isn't smaller than his finger.

It's at least seven feet long.

It also looks like an unholy cross between a sock-eye salmon and a moray eel, mouth curving in a vicious hook.

Guide notices it too, stopping to tread underwater, muscles rippling beneath shining skin. The fish circles in towards the Wraith but changes course a few feet from him and arcs back out into the gloom. John's already gently back paddling towards the shore, hopefully appearing nonchalant.

With a small shake the Wraith kicks his way back to the surface, scanning the water below him as soon as he's caught his breath. He doesn't have to look long, the dark silhouette of the fish soaring into view. It curves in to do a few laps beneath them before dipping off again, and that's about all Sheppard is willing to put up with.

Guide lags behind as they bee-line for the shore, dipping under the water now and then to do God-knows-what. Sheppard's skin is crawling despite the soothing coolness of the water and it's all he can do not to snap back at Guide to hurry up. It's probably not even a carnivorous fish, he muses. It's just not something he's willing to have try and take his leg off, or swallow him whole.

Water kicks up aggressively behind him and he startles, snapping back around. He doesn't look in time to see what happened, but large ripples are rolling out from Guide's position in the water. He's about to voice a mix between _I told you so_  and _This is why I don't like deep water look at how fucking helpless I am_ when Guide disappears under the surface again. Sheppard frowns and spiritually leaves him for dead.

The fish have small teeth lining their mouths. This discovery is an unpleasant one, though the fish latched around John's arm is barely large enough to keep his forearm in it's mouth. It had actually _leaped out of the water at his arm_ during his upstroke, and why it hasn't just tried to eat his leg was bewildering.

It felt like his arm was being ground into glass, the reddish-yellow fish viciously ripping his arm back like it was stuck on a lure. John cries out from the pain and tries to rip his arm out of it's mouth, gushes of red filling the roiling space between them. John can't claw at it with his other arm and stay afloat at the same time, and he dips under the surface dangerously. A large darkness blots out the area beside him and everything has slowed enough over the course of a minute and a half that he watches the Wraith underwater with rapt attention as his feeding hand latches onto the fish and drains it dry, claws sinking alarmingly deep into it's side.

The shriveled animal goes limp and Guide grabs it by the jaw and cracks it off John's mulched wrist, grabbing him by the shoulder and hauling him back up to the surface.

Sheppard clamps his teeth shut to keep his complaints back, tendrils of shredded flesh swaying from his arm like seaweed. It burns like it's on fire when he moves it through the water, making him hiss.

"Fuck! What the hell."

"Shore, move!" Guide snarls firmly in his ear, and John gives in and wraps his good arm around the Wraith's shoulder. Guide seems to accept this and _hands him the shriveled fish_. John stares at it but doesn't question, adjusting his grip so Guide can swim easier. Wraith are apparently dangerously slick when wet, and he has to dig his nails into Guide's chest and pinch his shoulder in his arm to keep from slipping away immediately.

Guide drags him back to the shore in record time, Sheppard pulling away to stumble up onto the sand ledge, fish still in his mangled hand, the muscles locked around it and unquestioning. Guide follows, grabbing him by the shoulder to pull him farther up shore.

"Why the fuck do I have this?" He gestures with the fish, tossing it to the ground. He hopes he's not expected to eat it- there's no way there was any nutritional value left in it.

"You want to eat tonight?" Guide snaps back, rounding on him with a dangerous set to his shoulders. John squares his and lifts his chin to meet Guide's intensity head on.  Shock has thankfully kicked in, the searing pain in his arm numbing over. 

"You're kidding." He says, eying the lake again. "I get mauled and you're dragging a shark off my arm and your first thought is 'fuck yeah this'll make great bait."

"I was hoping to get it off you in one _piece_ , but the jaw seems to lock and I couldn't think of a way of killing it without destroying it's value as _food_."

"Is that what you were doing? Diving under again and again to try and _catch it_?"

Guide narrows his eyes and pushes a low hiss through his teeth, his feeding hand flexing at his side. John realizes they're both nearly naked and dripping, and his eyes flick over Guide's form before he catches himself. The Wraith notices, of course, swallowing through his heavy breath.

There's that tension again, slick and thick and suffocating and, as always, John makes a terrible decision when his brain is clouded with adrenaline. He closes the distance between them and slides his good hand around Guide's slick wrist, drawing his feeding hand up. His thumb trails across the palm as he shifts his grip to press it into his chest, and he can feel the shudder that crawls through the Wraith. They stand like that for a long moment.

"This isn't just going to go away, is it?" He asks with a hoarser voice than necessary, and the fact that Guide's pupils have rendered his golden irises no more than thin borders is unsurprising. John adds that to his psychiatrist's list - he's become painfully attuned to Wraith social cues for arousal.

"Not if you keep up with things like this." Guide whispers, the hush strange with his timbered voice. The pads of his fingers knead into John's chest, but his claws don't set. 

John licks his lips and swallows, "Do you have a problem with that?" He wonders how many times they're going to dance like this, stuck in this standing-too-close breathing-too-hard fog of adrenaline and arousal and refusing to act on it.

He was one hundred percent not ready to acknowledge that Guide turned him the fuck on. Even if he had subconsciously come to terms with it, some small part of him, he had no idea what to do about it.

Other than this. He flattens his palm against the top of Guide's feeding hand on his own chest, the raised enzyme vein thick under the pressure. Somehow the thing that has been the most wrong, the most terrifying and depraved is the thing he's most willing to face. _Feed on me,_ he thinks, _At least that's something expected of us._

Guide shifts his weight as though expecting something and Sheppard's heartbeat leaps to meet him.

"You know how this will go." Guide looks as though he wants to look away but is refusing himself the comfort, eyes locked with John. Another shiver, both of them this time.

"Yes." A small pause, a deep breath, " _Please_."

" _John._ "

"What the fuck do you want from me? How much _yes_  do you need?"

"I will not have you use this against me later." His eyes flicker over John's face as though searching for the lie. John snorts bitterly.

"No."

One last hesitation, a small jolt forward that stops and starts again, and Guide leans down to him, pressing their lips together. It's not what John expects, at all, and he jumps slightly before tightening the pressure on Guide's hand. The Wraith doesn't deepen the kiss, leaving it at an almost chaste press of wet lips before he pulls back, claws finally biting into John's skin.

" _Oh_." John breathes as the small tendrils start beneath Guide's hand. He can feel the energy, the _life_ crawl through him purposefully towards his shredded arm. His breathing quickens in anticipation and he closes his eyes, focusing on the euphoria flooding him and the arousal coiled at the base of his spine. His knees already feel weak and he lets go of his dignity and leans into the Wraith, pressing a soft moan into Guide's neck.

The pain starts when the hot life reaches his arm, threads of fire knitting together through his tattered flesh. There's a strange balance between the searing pain and the intensity of the euphoria, blurring the lines between pleasure and pain.

Guide's other arm wraps around his middle and John lifts himself up so it slides more comfortably around his waist, torn over wanting to hide his face in the Wraith's neck. He settles for kissing the skin there, breath coming in shaky huffs. There's a low growling vibration emanating from the body he's pressed against, and through the haze John realizes Guide is _purring_.

"Oh God." He manages in response to that. John wants to do something back, bite or lick or grind, anything to work more sounds out of the Wraith. The lock of the Wraith enzyme has him pinned, though, so he settles with moaning softly and shivering as Guide's careful manipulation of his very being drags him higher.

Abruptly the pain in his arm cuts off and the force Guide has pumped into him overflows, and he _does_ bite down, crying out and sinking his teeth into Guide's neck. The Wraith jolts and pulls him in, the nails of his off hand biting into his hip as he lets out a ragged moan and shudders against him. John follows suit, blinded and gasping.

He doesn't peel himself away this time, when Guide's nails withdraw. The feeding slit stays latched against his skin, the familiar tug pulling at his heart.

Sheppard wiggles the fingers of his right hand, bringing it up behind Guide's back to examine it over his shoulder. There's a mesh of shiny, new pink skin spiraling around his forearm like a twisted fishnet, new tissue grown between tough, tanned skin. It looks damn cool, if he's honest.

"Is this going to scar?"

Guide shifts against him, kneading his fingertips again, his breathing thick and his words heavy, "I'm not sure. Eventually the same injury on a Wraith would blend together, but you don't have as many years as that may take. It won't be scar tissue, just newer flesh." 

John sighs at the loss as Guide peels the hand-mouth from his chest to move back and examine the arm. John laughs under his breath.

"Can I tell you something that's probably going to get me disowned by Atlantis if you ever repeat it?"

Guide eyes snap up to his, glittering gold with intense curiosity. Hook line and sinker.

"Now that it doesn't kill me---" He draws up Guide's feeding hand between them again, sliding his fingers between the Wraith's much larger ones and resting his palm against the mouth with an assumed tenderness, "This thing is really fucking cool."

John can feel the mouth slip open to suck against his palm, not hard enough to seal. Willing. Ready.

Excited.

A small shiver runs through him at the realization, but he tucks it into his back pocket for a later date. Tonight, maybe. When Guide wasn't expecting it.

"Another Wraith would never make contact so casually." Guide informs him, watching their hands like it's a magical occurrence. John can't stop the grin from spreading across his face.

"There are many things about my people you don't know." 

The Wraith chuckles, "I can taste you, when you touch it. Your life, tugged through your skin. It's a dangerous thing. It could be seen as a threat, if you had one as well. Or a kiss, perhaps."

That makes John's laugh slide to awkward embarrassment, but he lets their hands remain clasped. Wraith kisses he could deal with. The part of him still drowning in denial liked that, plausible deniability. Just enough _The retrovirus made him do it._


	5. Chapter 5

Dinner is a success. They argued about it briefly, but in the end crafted a fish trap out of the tent. They circled the lake until they found a suitable overhanging branch and had set up the tent upside down in the water, lashing it to the tree and cutting up the desiccated fish to throw inside for bait.

The evil eel-salmon tasted exactly like Sheppard had thought it would, stringy and oily, but with a deep, pleasant flavor. Guide was watching him eat, still shirtless in the residual heat. Once they had gotten out of the direct sun the Wraith had been more than willing to strip off as many layers as possible, dunking himself in the water periodically to stave off dryness. It made sense why hives always had a foot of mist curling about the floor, if they were this prone to dehydration. Probably due to a lack of taking in fluids through eating. 

"How long will this last you?" The wraith asks in a careful, scholarly tone. John thinks it over while picking bits of meat out of the fish's ribs. Guide is watching his process with distaste, and it amuses John to no end.

"If we cook an extra one and wrap it up carefully, I can have it for breakfast tomorrow, and that'll carry me through the day if it has to. Ideally I should be eating twice a day at least if I can, three times if I were home. The whole feeding thing is really taking the edge off my hunger, though, so that kind of throws a strange wrench in my estimations."

"I've been burning through my borrowed life at an alarming rate, as well as I haven't been feeding as deeply due to giving great portions of it back to keep you on your feet."

"So no killing means feeding more often and giving half back?"

"Mm."

John nods at that, piling the small fish's bones with the previous two. It makes sense- if he was pulling enough out of him to kill him without the retrovirus, he'd probably need to be grounded to the infirmary for a week. 

The light was starting to drop again, and John's stomach tightening had nothing to do with dinner.

"Is there anything sharp in there?" He asks out of left field. When Guide understandably looks confused, John nods towards his feeding slit. Guide turns his hand palm-up and tilts it towards him, the raised lip ridges parting to reveal the dark tissue within. 

"No. The enzyme is delivered through the claw. Why?" Guide eyes him warily as John takes his hand again.

"How sensitive _is_  it?" John asks as innocently as he can, though a bit of mischief slips into his tone. He covers it by sliding his thumbs along either side of the slit, splaying Guide's hand flat in his. The Wraith shivers aggressively, and John can tell if he looks up Guide's eyes will be trying to flare.

"Very." He breathes, voice cracking. 

John takes a deep, slow breath. This was either going to be the most amazing thing ever or backfire terribly.

"Huh." He mumbles, bringing Guide's hand up to his mouth and dragging the flat of his tongue from heel to fingers. He pulls away wetly. "So it's ok if I do that?"

Guide lurches, his fingers flexing aggressively. When John meets his eyes, he doesn't think he's ever seen a Wraith turn that dark a shade of green.

" _John_."

"That's me."

"What are you doing?"

"Well," John starts, feeling the small muscles on the edges of the Wraith's palm tense to flare the mouth open. "I was going to tongue-fuck your hand-mouth."

" _What_?" John watches Guide's face drain of the color that had recently rushed to it. "Why?"

"Because I think it would be hot." John smirks at him, delighted at the look of absolute incomprehension Guide is radiating. He'd figured it would be weird - if he had a mouth full of the lovechild of a shark and razor blades, he wouldn't want it near anyone's tender bits. 

"...With your _mouth_."

"That's what I said."

Guide stares him down, shifting closer. With a small shake of his head he pulls John into his lap and John goes willingly, pushing the Wraith's chest down with an evil grin. Guide complies and lies flat, shifting his thigh to place John at a better angle on his hips.

"You are truly something else entirely, John Sheppard."

Dipping his tongue into the slit John hums, reveling in the shudder that courses through the willingly pinned Wraith. John can feel it through his thighs, and it's all the encouragement he needs. Inside the organ is dark, blood pushing on the thin membrane at the surface. It's hot and there's a trace of mucous in it that makes John's mouth tingle and the tip of his mouth go numb. It's not particularly unpleasant, so he refuses to dwell on it. _Rodney would flip._

"Sheppard. _Colonel._ "

"Mm?" That was weird- there shouldn't be that much respect, that much need in the use of his title. It shouldn't send shivers to his core, blow his pupils or flush his face. John licks his lips.

The Wraith's off hand pulls at John's pant line, claws dipping beneath the fabric. Guide's breathing is damn near labored, and John isn't surprised. He's jittering with his own barely-contained cocktail of excitement, nervousness and arousal, and no one was doing anything to him.

He glances down at the Wraith's groping hand and falters. It must have shown on his face,  because the hand leaves his hip, trailing down to grip his thigh instead. John clears his throat.

"Sorry-- I'm just--"

"John."

"No it's-- not you, I'm just not quite there with the whole guy on guy thing, it's uh--"

" _Sheppard._ "

"Yeah?"

"Stop _talking._ "

That he can do. That, he's actually very versed with. He shows Guide, then, how well versed he is, turning his mouth to Guide's palm and sucking against it with a small, wet smack. The Wraith shudders and bucks under him, and that was definitely Wraith cock pressing up into him, hard and firm and _large_. Large enough John felt like he was straddling it, and when he drags his tongue up the inside of the membrane at the top of the slit he could swear he felt _ridges_  on it.

Ridged Wraith dick. Oh god, what has he gotten himself into. He has to shift his hips to work his own erection into a position where it wasn't grinding painfully into the pants of his BDUs.

"My god, _look at you_." John breathes against slick, tangy skin, almost immediately breaking his vow of silence. Guide is lying as flat as his spinal ridges will allow, chest arched up to meet him. His hip bones are digging into John's thighs, his stomach taut and carved with impressive lines of fitness. He looks old, and wise.

He also looks like the embodiment of sex, flush reaching from his face all the way down his neck, mottled skin evening out in tone with the deep green of arousal. His eyes are both wide and half-lidded, pupils blown to round orbs ringed with a molten gold corona. His lips are wet, like he's just licked them. Swollen with need.

It's not something John thought he'd ever see on a Wraith. It's not something he thought he'd ever _want_  to see. And he was the one causing it. John rolled that thought around in his mind.  _He was taking apart a 10'000 year old Wraith with his mouth_. And the wraith was laying down so he could be in control. And letting him put his mouth on his feeding slit. John shuddered.

Guide had an impatient glint to his eyes, but he was _letting John take his time_. That realization hit harder than anything else. They were both hard as rocks, John constantly and minutely rolling his hips in time with the man beneath him. Instead of taking him, instead of forcing him down and claiming him with teeth and claw and skin on skin, Guide lay beneath him and stared up at him like he was god. No, a _Queen_. 

Guide stared at him with the same reverence he watched Teyla with, when she strode in the black skirts of Steelflower. The same desire that had shook him when they stood watching Queen Death's video feed. It was lust, yes. More importantly, it was _respect_.

With a soft moan John plunges his tongue deeper into the hand mouth, lapping at it with a desperation he didn't know he was capable of. Guide groans deep in his throat  and bucks beneath him, and to John's surprise more of the tingly mucous spreads across his tongue. He spreads the slit to its limit and pulls parts of the outer ridges into his mouth, sucking them with a moan of his own.

It's impossibly hot.

It's also destroying the Wraith, Guide's breath heaving erratically beneath him, each huff a small, desperate moan. John is pretty sure the nails in his thigh have dug into his flesh, but the borders of pain and pleasure have blurred. He nips at the membrane again and Guide cries out and stiffens, throwing his head back and shuddering up into him with release. It takes him a moment to recover, but it's much quicker than a human would.

John stares down at him, enzyme-soaked mucous coating his lips.

"Oh my god I _can't._ " John hisses as he drags himself down to slowly press his lips to the Wraith's. He's impatient and shaking but not stupid. Mouth full of razor blades. Luckily Guide catches on unbearably quick and twists into him, deepening the kiss with subtle, weirdly inhuman motions. Sheppard lets himself be retrained to kiss, panting against him when he pulls back for air. It cements the theory that he is one hundred percent in charge. Infallibly and absolutely, Guide was giving himself over. With a small huff John realizes this is what he had done earlier, after the fish. Guide had seen it as the same, allowing himself to be fed on, opening himself to the Wraith.

"Among blades," The wraith begins, and when Guide speaks his voice is so low and soft and _cracked_ John thinks he might actually die.  He's swirling the pads of his fingers on John's thigh, riding the afterglow though he's still pressing up between John's legs. "Among blades, it is understood that to be in charge is to be Queen. Our society revolves around it, is genetically encoded to it. To be... taken, lavished upon, given control - this is a thing that is honored. We are made to _serve_. It is instinctual for me to give to you. To allow you over me, to--" He breaks off in a short chuckle, tilting his head back. "I desire you, John Sheppard, deeply. It is a cultural clash, I see, for you to see me shaking beneath you."

"Yeah taking a dick in the ass is seen as being weak, used as insults. You know. Bad." John has let go of Guide's hand and let both of his fall to Guide's hips, running his nails along the skin.

Guide's eyes snap open at that, and the look on his face makes John's skin crawl unpleasantly. "Do you think this way?" It's a hiss, low and aggressive, and John can't pinpoint where the anger is.

"No-- it's not."John clears his throat. It sounds so stupid when he has to put it into words. "We're Patriarchal as a society. Not as bad as-- as the Genii, most of Atlantis' leaders have been women, and are respected in their fields. But back on Earth-- It's just. A lot of men treat women like dirt, and men have a fear of other men treating them the same way."

"Treat women like _dirt_."

"I don't think like that, it's just the lingering social views. Not all that long ago realistically women were pretty much _owned_ by their husbands. In a lot of places they still are. So the lingering stigma is that it's bad to give up control like that. To be taken like a woman. Weak."

Guide is silent, staring up at him in disbelief. It takes him a long moment to clear his throat and speak. "You find _my_  culture barbaric."

John laughs at that and when Guide's eyes soften he knows it's the right answer. The Wraith sits up to meet him, shifting John in his lap so he can loop his arms around John's waist, pressing their foreheads together. John lets him, not entirely sure when he consented to this, when they became... _this_.

"So uh, getting back to the point, I don't really know how to do this take it up the ass while in control thing, and also you still scare the shit out of me."

"I see."

"But I still really wanna fuck you, holy shit."

"Hm."

John waits for a beat, turning his head to stare into the fire beside them, glowing almost painfully in the gloom. Trust him to be a complete girl about this. The thought makes him cringe in light of the previous conversation.

"Does your dick have fucking ridges?"

This makes the Wraith laugh, throaty and low, and he punctuates it with a tiny hip roll that seems _completely out of character_.  "It might, yes."

"That's crazy. I feel down right boring in comparison."

"I could show you, if you'd like." 

That makes John blink, heat crawling back up into his face. Guide's tone is smooth and seductive, and John's mouth goes dry. Hell _yeah_  he wants to see. He wonders how the medical team back home would respond if he came at them with all this weird knowledge. "Oh, yeah." Is what he says instead.

He's still worked up and hot and bothered, so when Guide leans in to drag his tongue up John's neck his shiver runs deeper than he would have liked to show. He scoots off Guide's lap as the Wraith unfastens his leather pants by some strap or clasp on the inside, remaining seated as he shucks them down around his ankles and pulls them off. He hooks his thumbs in the waist of the silky, knee length underwear next, and John's breath hitches as he slides it carefully off around his impressive erection, still sticky from his latest orgasm.

It has ridges. All along the underside looks almost _plated_. The head arcs up with an impressive flare, and John is absolutely, definitely staring. The whole thing is swollen and dark greenish-blue. Something stirs, and he realizes Guide has started purring again.

"Wow." He murmurs, and doesn't stop himself when his hand moves forward to touch. The skin is soft, more human feeling than the rest of the Wraith's oily skin, and the ridges are mostly soft save for the thickest knobs down the center, which have a calloused toughness to them. John slides his palm up the length of it and the purring hitches and deepens somehow. He takes the purring as a verbal ok, working in the theory that Guide is substituting telepathic encouragement with wordless vocalizations. _Like cats_. 

John slides his fingers around Guide's length, unable to look away from it. When he drags his hand up and squeezes it leaks off-colored pre-cum so John figures hey, 94% genetically identical. When he pulls his eyes away and flicks them up to the Wraith's, Guide is watching him with an amused hunger, all of his predator's features sharp and intense.

John shivers and leans down to swirl the cockhead in his mouth, testing the waters. Guide stiffens and _moans_ , his eyes fluttering shut and his head lolling slightly. Sheppard is thrilled.

He experimentally slides as much of it into his mouth as he can, not surprised that it tastes of the same tang that most of Guide he's had in his mouth does, just more intense. Eyes closed, he seals his lips and sucks his way back up, reveling in the feel of the ridges grinding against his tongue. Guide is shuddering beneath his touch, the purring aggressively broken by the best noises John's heard in his life.

"You make the filthiest noises." He tells him as he pulls off with a small pop, a trail of saliva still connecting them. 

"This is an entirely new experience for me." Guide says. His voice is wrecked and throaty, and it drives John _nuts_.

"Really? I thought- you know - worshippers."

Guide shakes his head and lowers his gaze back to John's mouth. "Not something I've ever indulged in."

"Really?" John begins sliding his hand in earnest, pumping him in short, quicks strokes. 

The Wraith's voice cracked with each stroke, but he did an admirable job of keeping his conversation straight. "I had been consort to a great Queen much of my life."

John hums his agreement and takes Guide's length in his mouth again, digging the nails of his free hand into the wraith's hip hard enough to bruise a human. This time he sucks in earnest, soaking up every twitch and spasm he works out of the organ. In a stroke of genius he decides to grind his bottom teeth up the plated underside, and is rewarded with Guide's fingers finding his hair and pulling _hard_. The wraith gives a sharp cry as he comes in John's mouth, and it's all John can do not to choke on the sheer amountof it, flooding over his tongue and drooling out the corners of his mouth before he has the mind to start swallowing.

Guide's hand doesn't hold him there and when John pulls off semen is still running out of his mouth in drippy ropes between Guide's still swollen cock and his mouth. It's thicker than human jizz, he notes sourly, though it doesn't taste unpleasant in any way.

"Ok." He chokes softly, trying to wipe his mouth on the back of his arm, "Ok you could have warned me about that."

Guide isn't responding, and John looks up just in time to see him pull his arm over his eyes and slide back into a laying position, panting heavily.

"You still with me buddy?" He asks, flicking his eyes to the fact that the wraith is still perfectly hard. He gets a low sound in response, so that's something. Shifting, John moves forward to look down at him, letting his grin shine wide. The pride in his chest is hot and full at taking apart an ancient Wraith warrior-scientist several times in a row.

Guide moves his arm and John traces his starburst tattoo with his finger, letting his chest rest on the Wraith's. He can't find any gold in his eyes.

"You ruin me." Guide tells him seriously, and John feels his heart leap into his throat.

He doesn't have anything to say to that, so he kisses him instead.


	6. Chapter 6

  
The next day passes similarly to the last, the pair picking their way towards the assumed Stargate location. The weather is thankfully less hot today, puffy pink-tinged clouds obscuring the sun for hours at a time. John eats the two precooked fish when they stop for a quick lunch, popping open the tent to let it continue to dry. He's staring at the pile of bones morosely when Guide slides up behind him, making him jump out of skin.

Guide laughs at that, trailing his feeding hand up John's front, pads of his fingers dragging. John's breath catches and he leans back against the solid chest behind him.

"Well hello there, how can I help you?" He breathes, skin prickling defensively.

Guide snorts again, low and hoarse, and this time when John feels the pain start in his chest he can also feel the firmness of the Wraith pressed against him, holding him rigid and safe. When Guide filters the life back into him, the Wraith also has his hand slipped under the waistband of John's BDU pants, and it leaves both of them panting and ragged.

They pack up quickly, Guide looking much more himself after feeding. He keeps eyeing John warily, though, as if he's afraid John might collapse.

John pretends he doesn't notice.

The tent is dry enough to sleep in once night falls, and John doesn't complain when Guide slips in just after he settles. The Wraith seems to make an effort of not actually touching him when he sits beside him, but his expression is soft.

"Why you acting like a stranger?" John mumbles into the crook of his arm. If they were going to do this, they might as well go all the way. In retrospect he should kick himself for doing this at all, for letting _this_ continue. But he had never been a man of thinking his actions through, and by God he wasn't going to start now.

Guide hums gently, staring into the middle space towards the flap of the tent. When he flicks his attention back over, the expression is much more thoughtful than John had expected. When Guide doesn't look like he's going to continue, John activates his special ability and keeps talking.

"Fine, what are you thinking about?" He tries next, shifting so he's lying less on his stomach. Guide's eyes crinkle slightly as he inhales deeply.

"Social customs. It is difficult to break millenniums of ingrained behavior, even when I can clearly see they do not apply. I cannot approach your sleeping quarters without being invited. You may not invite me, as you do not see this as necessary. I can not touch you without permission when you are in a sleeping chamber, yet you expect this of me. I am trying to... teach myself new instincts, perhaps. I am learning." He brings his off hand of and rests his cheek against the knuckles.

John thinks this over and smiles. "I know what you mean, though. You put Italians to shame with the amount you convey through hand-talking." When Guide does the head tilt he laughs. He expects it, now. "Culture. Known for wildly using hands when speaking. Also the pupil thing is really cool. Are all Wraiths so vocal, or are you trying to bridge the gap of no mental bad touch?"

Guide shows teeth, but John barely catches the crinkle in his eye that possibly meant it was non-threatening. He thinks. Sarcastic snarl, maybe.

"Mental bad touch." Guide parrots, his features smoothing back to the dreamy look he's been sporting all night. "We speak through our minds, so we have no need to speak with our true voices. This does not mean we do not make sounds. I try to let you know what I am thinking instinctively, perhaps. It is a very jarring experience that you do not warm my mind the way I wish you to. That when I reach out to you, despite feeling the heat of your body your mind is simply not there." He pauses, eyes sliding shut. Something in John's gut chills, and he reaches the arm he doesn't have pinned under his head to rest the back of his hand against Guide's leg.

"It is lonely." Guide finally breathes, and the cold thing pops and washes over John. Would it be similar if he was blind, perhaps? No, then he wouldn't see anything. It would be as if he could see everything except Guide. The thought resonates and he has to take a shaky breath to wash it away.

"Come here." He manages, pulling the thermal sheet up and gesturing for Guide to get under it. Guide only opens one eye to regard him, but with a small hum he slides over and lays himself beside John. "I can't actually imagine that." John confesses, slotting himself against the larger man's chest. "The whole concept is alien to me. I'm right here, though. I promise." For emphasis he leans forward and bumps his forehead against the Wraiths. Guide huffs a small laugh and the rumble of it helps to chase away the cold.

"You are here." Guide mumbles more to himself than to John, pulling his hand up to press the pads of two fingers to John's forehead. He closes his eyes and John watches him focus for several long moments before the Wraith opens his eyes and sighs. " You are here." He repeats, though he doesn't sound convinced. John's heart aches.

"Hey, I have a question," John starts, hoping to alleviate whatever depression has taken over his favorite alien. "How common is the gay thing with Wraith? Also what does that make me now that I'm consort to the Queen's consort?"

Guide hums against him, the deep rumbling purr somehow so normal and comforting to John over such a short period of time. He makes a mental note to avoid the topic of Wraith in his therapy appointments altogether, then wonders how successful that will be. He is way past the point of no return.

"It is common enough, courtship between blades. Or clevermen. It is rarer that classes cross over, but there are always a handful of courted blades in every Hive. It is not expected for more than a few Wraith to mate as there is only one Queen, so it is not as common as you would think. However, generally Wraith blades take their vows just as seriously as one would with their Queen, save of course if she wished to partake in one or both parts of the union."

"So she can just walk up to you and be like sorry Buster, Brutus is dating me now?"

Guide snorts with good humor, and John wonders how heavily the stars had to cross to give him this creature. He decides to quietly thank all of them, just in case.

It dawns on him in that moment that he is horribly, unapologetically in love.

Everything in him stiffens as his mind and heart gang up to betray him, sharp stabs of anxiety going off like fireworks in his core. With effort he pulls away from Guide and sits up, pulling his legs against his chest so he can forcefully thunk his head onto his knees. Beside him Guide pauses between laying and getting up, his feeding hand hovering as though not sure where to settle.

"I'm doomed," John tells his knees before remembering he was in the middle of a conversation. Emotional epiphanies were definitely not his thing, and he wonders briefly if the location they're in is at fault for how at ease he has been in general. If they were in the halls of Atlantis, would he curl against Guide's broad chest and soak up his rumbling laughter? Would he steal dangerous kisses from a mouth that could destroy him, link hands with the very organ that has been used to murder countless humans over countless millennia? It makes his head ache, and his heart isn't far behind.

"Sheppard..." Guide's voice is the low timbered hum of comfort, the one that washes over John's skin and makes his breath come easier. It's a tone of worry and care, and the part of John that is intent on betraying him willingly shoves the words into his head. It's _loving_. A Wraith was in his tent, laying beside him, _lovingly_ saying his name because he has no idea what's going on.

"I'm fine." John manages to croak, though his throat is closing and his eyes are prickling. Oh god. Oh god oh god this was _real_. "I'm fine, I'm just. Oh god, I'm in love with you."

It doesn't feel as though Guide can still any more, but he has always defied expectations. John is pretty sure the Wraith isn't breathing. When he finally inhales to speak, John steamrolls right over him.

"I'm in love with you. A Wraith. In the Pegasus galaxy. Crash landed on an unknown planet I don't know if I can escape from and Oh God this is not how I imagine my life going. When I joined the military I thought I'd get some glory, I'd meet a cute girl maybe or maybe not, I'd either die gloriously in battle or... Not. Not this. What do I do? How do I-- Let's not even start with going back to my own planet, how do I go back to Atlantis? How do I look Teyla in the damn face?"

Oh god, Teyla. He's been venting so much sexual tension at her lately and it makes him reel back on his heels to think about. _Hello Teyla I'm dating Guide. Hey Rodney will you be the best man at my wedding? I know how much you love Wraith and I figure we'll alter the tuxedos to be a nice mix of Human and Wraith fashion, what do you think?_ Oh shit, _Ronon_. He was dead. John was going to be murdered for deserting as soon as he get's back and it's his own damn fault-

" _John._ "

"No you don't understand, Ronon is going to _kill me_. Or _you_. He's one of my best friends and oh he is never forgiving me, he is never letting this go."

The cool pad of Guide's thumb presses along the space of cheek he doesn't have covered and John realizes with an aggressive jolt that he's crying. Those are tears. He straightens from his knees with a ragged sob and scrubs his face with his hands, batting the Wraith away in the same motion. This is unacceptable and he has got to stop it _now_. Grown men do not fucking cry like girls over-- fuck.

He takes a few deep, steadying breaths to try and center himself. Pictures the controls of a Puddle Jumper in front of him. Something familiar, calming. He focuses on how the controls feel under his capable hands, the extreme focus of life-or-death piloting. Somehow the thought of potentially dying soothes him and his heart beat slowly stops thundering in his ears. When he's done several death-defying loops in his imaginary Jumper he cautiously pulls back and takes stock of where he is.

Guide has risen to sit cross legged in front of him, his palms still raised towards John as through very nervously warming his hands. His expression is something John never wanted to see there, and guilt quickly floods in to replace his barely evicted panic. When he meets Guide's eyes, his expression smooths over, but it looks forced. John sighs.

"Sorry." He mumbles, dropping his gaze. "I'm just-- I'm not dealing well, I guess. Sorry." He clears his throat, but nothing more comes out.

Guide hums low and tilts his head as though John is using a reference the Wraith cannot possibly grasp. He probably can't grasp any of this, if John's own confusion is anything to judge by. With another deep sigh he brings his eyes to Guide's slightly lowered hands, still not resting. It looks like he's desperate to touch him but is afraid it'll break him. John recalls brushing contact away, and adds it up with Guide's speech about touching. Right.

With a groan he pulls himself forward and moves into the Wraith's personal space, pleased that Guide eagerly parts his legs and encourages John to settle there. For good measure, John takes the bigger man's wrists and wraps his arms around him, clasping his hand against Guide's feeding slit. It opens against his palm and suckles gently, and it makes John's heart swell.

Talking any more than he already has seems like something he'd rather avoid, so John remains quiet, matching his breathing to the deep movements of the living wall against his back. His head swirls with dizziness from the sheer willpower it's taking to shove all of his unresolved issues into a tiny box in the back of his mind. It feels good to let his head rest back against Guide's shoulder, and they sit there and let the silence stretch comfortably. Outside the tent, alien crickets sing to each other. It's comfortingly familiar.

"I am in love with you as well, John Sheppard." Guide says eventually, breathing into John's neck. He feels the words rumble all the way through him the way only Wraith voices do, and his heartbeat immediately jumps to attention. The rest of him remains slogged and exhausted, which he's thankful for. He's not sure he can handle any more panic and adrenaline. It's a long enough pause that he thinks Guide is done speaking, but he continues to nuzzle the soft hairs at the nape of John's neck.

"I have always been, I believe. Since I saw you lying beneath me on the planet of that awful prison, I have loved you. I took everything you had and it was the sweetest thing I have ever drank. I gave it back because of a sense of honor, I told myself." His voice turns up in the Wraith equivalent of a smile. "I have made many excuses to see you. To make weak alliances, flimsy lies of deception to mask courting gifts. I am always trying to find things that may be of use to your Hive. You are always at the back of my mind."

John lets it sink in, a smile spreading across his face. Everything seems so right at this moment. Right here on this planet, it's as though everything has settled where it should.

"Yeah. Sorry for not trusting you for so long."

Guide snorts. "You trust me now? What happened to you, John Sheppard."

"I know, always keep a healthy paranoia, et cetera et cetera. But I do. I would give you my life without a second thought. Hell, you'd probably take better care of it than I would."

"I haven't been able to feed on dark haired men in years."

"Oh," He manages. This makes John pause. He tries to forget that Wraith murder people, but he figures that's unhealthy. If he's going to entrust his life to this Wraith, he had better well be ok with every damn part of him. If he plans to love him, he has to accept he is a predator.

"Even in the deepest throws of hunger, I break to think I would ever harm you. You can destroy me. I would let you, and I would thank you for it."

"Such a romantic. It kind of makes my skin crawl that you're going to feed on other people once we're off this planet." John presses his palm against the moist hand-mouth for emphasis, and Guide thrums at the pressure. "I mean- surprisingly, not that you're eating people. Just that it's not me. Is that weirdly possessive? I don't want anyone else to have this on them." He runs his finger up the enzyme vein on the back of Guide's hand, tracing it with the edge of his nail.

Guide stiffens and John feels the air heat immediately. One day he was going to do tests on the sexual tension between them, because there was no fucking way this was normal. Also, apparently his Wraith likes him being possessive, if the shaky breathing against his shoulder is any indication.

"I know you have a Hive to run. But I like to think I can keep you, you know? That I am the only thing that feeds your literal existence. That something, _someone_ so strong and fierce and powerful relies on me. Needs me. Only me."

"Only you." Guide parrots, and there it is, the rasp that means his eyes have already blown. It's intoxicating how easily the Wraith comes apart for him. John feels far more powerful than he ever has before. There's something in their dynamic that makes his gut clench and his knees weak. He feels like he has so much control, but not in the way he would in a traditional relationship.

It's because Guide gives him the power. _Guide_ , who can open his body with his nails, kill him with only his teeth. He isn't dominating some weak flower. He's taming a tiger, and the tiger is begging for it.

Blood rushes through him and he sucks in a sharp breath. Oh fuck. He might not be fully comfortable with his sudden emotional epiphanies, but he can not physically force himself to give this up. John's head spins with it and he uses his heels to press back into Guide's chest. His tiger. His Predator. His.

"Mine." He confirms, and Guide _moans_. Queens, John thinks through a dull haze. Power. He licks his lips.

"Touch me." John commands in the most even tone he can manage. Guide melds into him as though trying to absorb the words through his chest, as though trying to become one with him. John shifts to buck his hips forward, mimicking their position from earlier that day. When Guide slips his feeding hand from his and gropes for his chest John snags it.

"No." He breathes, and Guide gasps for air. "Touch me with this." John licks his thumb and presses it just into the opening of the slit, shivering as mucous coats the pad of his finger. His heartbeat tries to climb out of his chest but he breathes through it, rolling his hips and finding Guide's other hand. Pulling them both down to his lap, he hooks his own thumbs in his waistband. Guide doesn't need to be told twice. The Wraith rolls his length against John's ass as he shucks John's pants down just low enough to pull his erection free.

John watches like a man possessed as Guide shyly slides his feeding hand along his length, slit held tightly closed. He runs over it a few times before pressing his palm against the head, and John does something embarrassingly close to convulsing when the hand-mouth spreads open and takes the very tip inside. It's unbearably hot within the organ, and the mucous that made his mouth numb spreads a similar tingling sensation along his cock. He swears profusely and gasps. The organ tightens around him for a moment before being pulled off, and the absence of the slick heat is a void.

"Oh what the fuck." He gasps, unable to keep his hips still. More of that would be good. More of that would be very good. "Please fuck, god, I need more of that right now."

Guide's breath is ragged but he complies, sliding the opening up the underside of John's cock. The heat leaves a trail of sensation and it takes everything he has not to try and fuck the hand mouth. John has just enough wits about him to realize his length will definitely not fit in the delicate opening. It doesn't stop him from thinking about it.

It sucks against his dick again and the gentle pressure makes his toes curl. It's unbearable.

" _Please_." He begs, and Guide's off hand digs into his thigh as the hand mouth sucks his head in again. The organ moves around him and John can't help but buck his hips despite the Wraith's firm grip. He feels a soft burn of Life in his cock and nods, the only sounds he can get out of his lips being near ecstatic cries of Guide's name, and _fuck yes_ , and _more_.

The flood of euphoria starts and Guide grinds against him, gasping wetly into John's neck. It only takes a moment for the tightness to spill over and John feels a tight sharp pain in his neck. It's all he can take and he's seeing stars, his semen spilling across the Wraiths palm and over his fingers.

When he comes down from the high Guide is sobering against his back, breath slowly steadying from his own apparent orgasm. John blinks up at the top of the tent and thinks he's sad he missed it.

His neck burns and he brings his shaking hand up to touch it. The skin there is hot and wet and when John pulls his fingers down he realizes there's blood. _Oh_. He frowns gently. Guide bit him.

In the moment it definitely didn't feel as though enough pressure was applied to draw blood. Then again, John was weighing it with human teeth. Wraith have those awful mouth-needles, so it would make a lot of sense for them to require less pressure to puncture.

"John." The deep rumble sounds upset, and it shakes John from his musing. He realizes he's still looking at his bloody fingertips. He smears his thumb and forefinger together for good measure. "I am deeply sorry." Guide continues, and that makes John suck in a breath like he's waking up.

"What? Oh, no, don't worry. Is it bleeding a lot? I was uh- I was just thinking that it didn't hurt a lot, so it's weird there's blood." He turns to meet Guide's eyes and he can't keep his afterglow-fueled grin down. "Dull human teeth take a lot to draw blood. Gotta really crush the skin and flesh and stuff, so if you draw blood it's usually a really big deal. I can't even feel it, honestly."

"You enjoy comparing us." Guide states instead of asks, and John leans in to kiss him chastely. Guide's lips are dry, and in the back of his head John notes that they should get some water.

"Yeah, I really do. It's fascinating." He smiles against Guide's mouth and kisses him again, this time tasting blood. Space-Alien-Vampire-Boyfriend. "Gross." He mumbles into their shared air, and wipes his mouth against the back of his hand.

"I am sorry. Do you want me to heal it?"

"No, no. I should get it cleaned up, but what's the point of my first love bite if I don't get to savor it a little, right?"

Guide gives him one of his endearing snorts and John's chest glows. He can feel a hot line of blood running into the collar of his shirt, though, so he stretches and moves to climb out of the tent to find something to clean it up with. They aren't exactly overflowing with supplies.

In the end he opts to let Guide boast his name and follows him through the dark bush to find water. The cold of the stream stings against his open wound, but it feels good to get the fast-drying blood off. Beside him Guide starts stripping down and John doesn't envy him. In the brilliant moonlight the water looks very, very cold.

"You gonna take a dip?" He asks as Guide starts shucking out of his tight leather pants. It's mesmerizing to actually be able to watch him do it, this time.

"I've been feeling dry. This planet could do with a lot more humidity, I think." Guide responds. John hums back to him and gracelessly falls into a sit on the smoothest surface he can find. His legs still don't feel as though they want to cooperate.

"It looks cold as hell, so don't mind me. I'm just going to sit here and try and get my legs to stop feeling like jell-o." He takes a cleansing breath before catching what he said. It's almost a trained response at this point. "Which is a food, that is an edible gel. Known for being, uh, wobbly. So my legs are wobbly. Orgasm."

Guide turns to study him for a moment before snorting and shaking out his mane. The Wraith's colors pop in the moonlight, and John has to fight down the urge to touch and fondle the ridges on his spine. He glows a ghastly green, and the light catches his hair to frame him in liquid silver. It takes a moment for him to realize that he used to find those colors horrifying. Right now he's the most beautiful thing John has ever seen. His heart skips a beat and he lets it.

Fuck it, this is his life. He lets himself openly devour the larger man with his gaze, dragging it over every line he can pick out in the low light. When Guide catches him he flushes a soft green before turning to slowly pick his way into the water. It only makes it up to his waist, but he ends up crouching down and dunking his head under.

John has a sneaking suspicion he cleans out his silk shorts while he's ducked down, but he's not really in a position to judge.

He feels incredible.

"Let me guess, you're gonna freeze in that stream and then come back to bed with me and steal all my body heat." He quips, and is pleased when Guide makes a good-humored noise back. "I'd like you to know that while I think this is unfair, I also demand it happen."

This gets a full-on laugh, all sweet rumbles, and John closes his eyes against the gentle breeze.

He feels _alive_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where most Author's Notes have a "SORRY IM NOT DEAD" in them, but im not sorry, and also I'm still dead.
> 
> ....... I have a hand kink. I'm not sorry. I hope this is worth over a year of waiting;;


End file.
